


Spread These Wings Somehow

by DarkPilot



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comatose Poe Dameron, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Poe Dameron, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redeemed Ben Solo, Selectively Mute Character, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 03:03:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14323155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPilot/pseuds/DarkPilot
Summary: Two months after the Battle of Belsavis, the Resistance has lost their best pilot, and Ben Solo has lost everything. More and more First Order troops defect each day, but General Hux continues to wage a relentless war on the Resistance.Meanwhile, Poe Dameron is fighting to stay alive. Trapped inside his own mind, he senses something dark coming near, but it’s only a matter of time before he forgets his own battle.Sequel to Taking Flight.





	Spread These Wings Somehow

Silence was a cure to Ben Solo. Within his own silence, he found purity. Within that purity, there was power. Within that power, there was purpose. Within that purpose, there was calm.

And calm was sorely needed.

Ben stepped into the cold, stormy waters of the Chandrilan beach, the water raging under the winter wind. His bare feet sank into the swirling sand underneath, as though he might fall through the grains at any moment. The salty wind sang through his hair and lightly clothed shoulders. His skin prickled with the cold, but he paid it no mind, drinking in the sea air.

_In. Out. In. Out._

Ben reached into the Force, into the blankets of reality he knew were ready to embrace him. He unclipped his new lightsaber from his belt — sleek and silver, fitted with pieces from his old lightsaber’s hilt. A hand went to the leather cord around his neck, to the ring and fractured crystal hanging there like old lovers.

_Inhale. Exhale._

His eyes closed, his senses extending far beyond the limits of his human body. He felt each wave beating against his ankles and slowly drew his feet across the sand to match the ocean’s rhythm. Each stroke disappeared as soon as it was formed. Ben bowed his head and concentrated on that, the cycle of creation and destruction moving under and between his own footsteps.

Ben hadn’t cut his hair since the Battle of Belsavis, and now it hung down to his shoulders in long black waves, tied back at the nape of his neck. He kept himself clean-shaven, more for formalities than want. He no longer cared for his appearance.

Ben’s footwork steadied, sinking into the ocean’s gentle, cold rhythm. It was almost like dancing without a partner. His body moved in time to the current, and he willed his mind to follow.

His thumb ran down the length of the holt and lightly pressed the activation switch. A thin, meter-long amber-gold blade hummed to life, as though it were an extension of his a. The blade danced in the dawn sky under the light of Chandrila’s smaller sun, its Force energies flowing from flesh to metal to light. His awareness opened — he could feel the air rushing in and out of his lungs as he practiced the familiar movements.

Ben’s lightsaber glided between his hands, giving off a soft golden glow. The water around his feet began to respond to his movements, just as how he had first responded to it. Waves rose and fell under Ben’s guidance, and the sand under his feet spiraled out into nothingness. Thoughts drifted across his mind like heartbeats.

_A teacher._

_A friend._

_A mother._

_A ship._

_A droid._

_A ring._

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

Ben’s hand let go of the saber, and he let it sail through the salt wind as though someone else were holding it. His limbs darted between the saber’s movements, each time stopping the blade bare centimeters from his skin. The golden saber was lighter, more stable, easier to contain and control.

Control. What a beautiful word.

Ben opened his palm as the sea rose around him, enveloping him in a chilly wall of water. The saber stood erect in the air, each of its components separating until there were only parts — washers, scrap metal pieces, connectors, and the ring. The same one Ben had hidden away for years between grief and anger and denial now rested in his new lightsaber in place of a focusing crystal. The Force-conductive amber in the alloy wasn’t as powerful as kyber, but it was not power that Ben wanted.

 _Calm_.

In an instant, the lightsaber snapped back together, and Ben swung it over his head in a final arc as the ocean exploded around him. His feet whispered through the waves as he lifted his eyes to the pale grey sky above. Wind filled his lungs with the scent of salt and sand, and the past rushed with it, blowing into this present future Ben could never have imagined. Darkness called to him, as did the light, but he refused both.

In the end, both had failed him.

The ocean died back to its natural state, and Ben waded out of the water. The sand stuck to his wet skin, but he didn’t care. He sat down on the dry beach, his long legs letting his heels barely touch the tidal line. Ben let his hair down, and it lightly tapped his shoulders like the sea waves.

The second sun was beginning to rise. Ben watched as warm orange light washed over the cold grey water.

Orange. That had been Poe’s favorite color.

Poe had always loved beaches — no, not just beaches, but the ocean itself. Having been born on a forest moon, he’d never seen vast expanses of water until he’d moved in with Ben. Ben could still see the expression on Poe’s face the first time he’d seen this same beach, this same ocean — a mix of wonder and feat and sadness and longing and peace all at once. It had been then that he knew, without any doubt, that he’d fallen completely in love with Poe Dameron. They’d been casually dating for a year before then, and they’d shared kisses and beds, but it was then that Ben had known that his heart would never go to another person, that there was nothing he would not do for this beautiful man that destiny had somehow spared for him.

Except that he had broken his own vow in one act of desperation.

Ben could think freely about what had happened then — six years of solitude had trained him so. It was the more recent events that he couldn’t conjure in his mind. Ben had given up speaking. There was no one to talk to, and there were no words that could have been said.

Ben closed his eyes and meditated. When he’d been younger, he never could fully understand why Luke had insisted upon it. Now, in this one spot so full of memories and solitude, Ben could almost imagine the peace that Luke had spoken of.

Calm.

* * *

 

Most of the base was relatively quiet when Ben made his way to the medbay. The few people that he did see barely gave him a second glance or any type of greeting. Ben knew that his presence on Chandrila was still not a very welcome one, but most people had moved past fear to resentment. A few had moved past resentment to indifference.

Ben traced the path to Room 1011 by heart. After a rocky first few weeks, the med staff there gradually came to trust that Ben had no harmful intentions, and they let him in and out as he pleased. He keyed in the code and walked in.

The room was bare, save for the various machines hooked up to the comatose man lying far too still on a bacta-infused healing bed. Two chairs and a small table were arranged by the bedside. Ben sat in one and stared at the recently changed sheets.

He reached over and took the thin, frail hand that had been so full of life only two months ago. Ben couldn’t feel anything, but he tried anyway. _Good morning, Poe_.

Ben imagined the pilot’s response. _Why the hell are you talking to me so early in the morning?_

_It’s oh-six-fifty, Poe._

_Wrong answer. Try again._

_Wake up, Poe. Talk to me._

_Too early. Maybe later._

_You’d wake up in the middle of the night if the Resistance needed you for some mission or battle._

_. . ._

_Can’t you wake up for me?_

_. . ._

_I know you’re tired. Just five minutes?_

. . .

Poe’s hand still felt lighter than the air. Ben almost feared holding it because he was afraid he might break the delicate bones underneath the paling skin. Instead, he rubbed circles into the pilot’s palm with his thumb.

_I know you can hear me, even if I can’t hear you._

_The Resistance is still in good hands. My mother finally made a decision about who’s going to fill for you until you wake up. She actually split the role because no one wanted it. Snap Wexley’s been promoted to Major, and he leads your squadron. Vice Admiral Amilyn Holdo is filling your tactical position. I’m not sure what I think of her yet. I get the feeling that you’d either really like her or really hate her._

_In the past two days, we went and liberated another corps of First Order troopers. Now that Snoke is gone and I’m with the Resistance and some factions have already separated, it looks like it’s easier for the rebels to join us. I wish you could see it._

_I’m trying to help out where I can, Poe, I promise._

_It gets so hard a lot of the time. I don’t know what I expected coming back, but I’d always hoped to have you with me. In a way, you are. I can’t stop thinking about you. Every minute of every waking hour of every day. I can’t stop._

A soft whistle interrupted Ben’s thoughts. He looked up and saw Poe’s orange astromech — BB-8, was it? He remembered going with his father to get the droid once Poe had gotten his acceptance letter.

 _All these pilots flying with fancy droids these days_ , Han Solo had said. _Poe’s gonna need one that can keep up with him._

Then Ben had heard a loud screech on the far side of the stall and he’d seen the little orange droid rolling over the stallkeeper’s webbed feet and threatened surrounding customers with a welding torch. Ben had immediately pictured the elated grin on Poe’s face as he had pointed out the spherical droid. _That one._

That one rolled up the Ben’s side now, chirping quietly. Ben didn’t have Poe’s natural knack for Binary, but he could decipher the general meaning. He shook his head. _No change._

BB-8’s dome head leaned against Ben’s calf, and he awkwardly patted the droid’s head. BB-8 made a soft cooing noise.

_Me, too._

A compartment in the droid’s body opened, and a mechanical repair arm unfolded. BB-8 poked at the limp hand Ben was holding, hoping to jar some sort of reaction. Could droids hope? Two months ago, he might have had a different answer.

Out of everyone he’d met and interacted with on Chandrila, Ben minded BB-8’s presence the least. The droid never tried to make him talk and was completely content to carry on the conversation all by himself. They communicated in their own way, beeps and silence. It was almost like a code that only they could understand, a code to which the key was a comatose pilot.

Ben tentatively reached into the Force, into the link that had once fused his entire being to Poe’s. He winced as he crossed over into Poe’s unconscious mind, refusing to look at the terrible scene that had been there since the Battle of Belsavis. Instead, he focused on Poe’s body, making a routine check on the state of his lover’s injuries. Nearly gone now. Ben wished he had Poe’s Force healing power, so he could do something about the four jagged scars on Poe’s skin, two entry wounds in his back, two exit wounds in his stomach.

Some things bacta simply couldn’t take away.

With a small shudder, Ben retreated to his own body and exhaled deeply. It was the loudest sound he’d made all day. He kissed Poe’s hand once and laid it down.

Thankfully, BB-8 broke the silence by beginning another incomprehensible story.

 


End file.
